Amore per Sempre: Love Forever
by resauthor
Summary: Happy New Year! Celebrate it with Chris, Rita, and their family at the house with an ocean view. This is a brand new 2020 story based on three little paragraphs I wrote back in the 1990s. Check out my trip down memory lane on Instagram: resauthor.


**Author's Notes****: **This latest story is another unexpected find. The first three paragraphs below were hidden in a file on my laptop with no hint of what type of story I intended to write. But looking back, I do remember why I abandoned them – it was my first and only attempt at writing first-person Point of View. I mentioned this find in a text conversation with D of the DA's Office. She said to run with it. That was five days ago. I could not have done this without her encouragement and our amazing jam sessions. This may have originally been a false start for Testament of Faith, a story in my Alternative Timeline Series, but it turned into a possible sequel instead. You decide. There are references in here to a few of my other stories, most notably Resolutions of the Heart, but you should be able to follow along even if you haven't read them.

_Amore per Sempre_ takes place on New Year's Eve 2019. I chose another Italian language title for this story because I grew up in an Italian/American household with a mother who emigrated from Italy in her twenties. For me, Italian is the language of love. This is a story filled to the brim with love. That being said, this story is also unlike anything I have ever written before. It's definitely outside my comfort zone so feedback by PM or Review is _really_ appreciated - as is clicking that favorite button if you enjoyed reading.

_**Amore per Sempre**_

"_**Love forever…"**_

By: resauthor

Thinking back on that cold December day in 1995, I am amazed at how close to perfection my life seemed at that time. Did I realize it as I stood in that parking lot, just steps away from the sandy shores of the Atlantic Ocean? Probably not. I was far too scared to realize much of anything. And I don't mean scared like there-is-something-hiding-under-the-bed scared. The terror I was experiencing was much more real. My entire existence was hanging in the balance, dependent on the honor of a drug dealer and killer. The boogeyman man had nothing on this guy.

Strangely enough, I do remember hearing children at play in a nearby park. They were a few blocks away, blissfully ignorant of the drama about to unfold. Montoya had chosen the exchange site with care. The parking area ran parallel to the shore. It was public, yet off the beaten track, empty except for a roller hockey game that seemed to be winding down as his long black limousine approached.

I probably should explain that I was recently married at that time. Yes, Chris Lorenzo, infamous Palm Beach bachelor, had finally taken the big step, and taken it willingly. Acquaintances were surprised, to say the least, but those who knew me best just shook their heads and asked why it had taken so long for me to come to my senses. Speaking as someone who has recently been coerced into re-examining the journey of their life, I maintain that there were good reasons for my cynicism regarding love. My parents' brief attempt at marriage shares the number one position on that list along with my enjoyment of the holy rights of bachelorhood. I held onto these reasons like a suit of armor. But armor is heavy and I was tired of dragging it around by my mid-thirties.

So, there I was with my entire existence, my heartbeat, my future, held hostage in the back seat of a madman's limo.

Feels like a lifetime ago. In many ways it was.

Why do I find myself dwelling on that parking lot and the life-altering repercussions now? The explanation is twofold. My mother wrote an autobiography a few years before her death in 2017. I wasn't featured in it too heavily, got to give the woman credit for that bit of honesty, but there was a chapter in there about the December 1995 incident that caught the attention of several screenwriters in Hollywood. Somewhere out there in the ever after Anna is loving every bit of this.

And then there is Cap's impending visit. Both he and Fran will be arriving soon; by private limousine no less. Not to be confused with Uber or Lift. I couldn't get away this afternoon to pick them up myself, work prevented it, but Harry "the Lip" Lipschitz and his devoted missus, Fran, deserve nothing but the best. I sent the car because Cap at 81 years old is still one of the best storytellers I have ever known and this trip will give him hours of material with which to entertain his friends when he heads back to his retirement village in Boca Raton next week. Unless we can persuade him and Fran to stay a little longer this time. They aren't getting any younger. As my wife always says, time is precious, don't waste a minute of it. We came frighteningly close to learning that lesson the hard way.

"I knew I'd find you out here."

_My wife…_ Two words that can't even begin to describe our connection. My wife loves to sneak up on me when I'm standing out here on the back deck. More often than not, I'm gazing out at the water. The surf and the sand still call to me after all these years. I do some of my best thinking out here. At least until she wraps her arms around me, and hugs me from behind. I know if I turn around, I'll look into the sea-green eyes that own my soul. Time has barely touched her. She's smart, wickedly funny and doesn't hesitate to challenge me on a daily basis. Together, as partners in life, we've changed careers twice since our PBPD days, settled into our dream home with an ocean view, and raised a family that fills us with pride. Most importantly, we continue to love each other as deeply, solemnly and faithfully as we did when we first acknowledged the depth of our feelings for each other. She remains my everything. My Sam.

"Come here," I coax, pulling her around to settle against my chest. Still a perfect fit.

"Aren't you cold?"

"Just wanted a few quiet minutes before the party begins. Do you need any help?"

"No, the kids have it handled. We're ready. Do you think Cap suspects anything?"

"Not a thing. He thinks he's coming up to celebrate both New Year's Eve and the twenty-fourth anniversary of our engagement."

"Still amazes me that you sold him on that line of nonsense."

"Maybe he just wanted to visit."

"Twenty-fourth anniversary? Who celebrates that?"

She's laughing at me, and I'm more than okay with it. I love making her laugh. Her eyes light up, those beautiful lips curl into a smile and all I can think about is kissing her, which I immediately do. Kids aren't out here to tease us this time, but I get a kick out of it when they do. I didn't have biological parents who loved each other and openly showed affection. They weren't around to model what a joy marriage can be when you find the right person, but any bitterness about what my parents did or didn't do was put to rest long ago. We didn't make the same mistakes with our kids. Cap and Fran have been another great example for them, just as they were for us. Even now, with his 82nd birthday approaching in two weeks, Cap continues to look at his wife with a loving smile on his face and a roguish twinkle in his eye. And she responds in kind. Always.

"You know, Cap, he's a sucker for romance." As am I, come to find out. I've been to the brink. I've stood toe to toe with the demons who tried to take everything from me for the sake of their own greed and dark desires. I danced with the devil and survived. That type of experience can either break a man or teach him to hold on tighter and appreciate every moment of light and love he can find in the world. They took my job, but I wouldn't let them have my wife or my unborn child.

"How did it go with Maureen today?"

Maureen is the pleasant, but annoyingly persistent, screenwriter assigned to poke and prod my past as we explore the drama my mother so eloquently wrote about in her third-person observational view. Anna never called to ask my permission or to find out any of the details before she penned that chapter in her memoir, so most of it was devoted to her own pain upon learning of the tragedy. I can only imagine what my father would have said if she had published it before his death. Chapter two is all about him. I got off easy.

My dampening mood does not go unnoticed. She doesn't miss much, my wife. I'm an open book to her. Her arms tighten around me, she kisses my cheek and I find myself exhaling.

"Went well," I finally answer. "She wanted to concentrate on the exchange in the parking lot. Said the story needs more of my perspective. More emotional detail to fill out the scene."

"You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to."

It's an assurance that's been given to me a hundred times since this crazy project started, but she knows I'll finish the interviews. Just as she will. We talked it over for weeks before the contract and releases were signed. Revisiting that time will always be painful for both of us, but this movie, should it ever actually get made, will be a legacy for our kids and a love letter to our family - the same family of friends who stood beside us on the worst day of our lives. They comforted and protected my wife; took care of her and our unborn child when I wasn't capable of doing so. They showered her with hope. Always hope.

And if I hadn't survived? Even worse, if something had happened to…. Well, I've spent countless hours imagining both scenarios. It took a long time for the ghosts of those what-ifs to disappear.

"Let's talk about it after the party, tonight in bed."

Her idea is tempting, but…

"That's not what I want to focus on tonight once I get you into bed." That lilting laugh. She still gets me. What time will this shindig be over?

"I'd better get back inside."

Another quick kiss and she's gone, but I can still see her through the glass doors and oversized picture windows. The house is lit up with happiness, bright lights, and noise. A Happy 82nd Birthday banner hangs above the fireplace mantle. Helium filled balloons are anchored in every corner.

Tonight is not a night for bad memories. This night belongs to Harry Lipschitz. The man who encouraged me to lead with my heart. The mentor who assured me that change was not something to fear and that my life would always be amazing as long as I had the woman I love by my side.

Twenty–four years ago tonight, in the Grand Ballroom of the Palm Beach Hilton, I was a nervous wreck. If all went well, our lives were about to change in ways we both welcomed and feared. But I was determined to do it; I was going to ask the big question no matter what. And maybe Cap sensed that as we stood near the bar. Our conversation that night felt like a bestowal of permission. An acknowledgment that some things in life are more important than the job. I'm convinced that was the exact moment our relationship shifted from primarily professional to something far more personal. We'd had similar, less direct, conversations before, but it had never felt more like father and son. And that is what he has been to me ever since.

"Diana and David are here!"

The noise level quadruples by the time I enter the house. Our kids and theirs have been cousins since birth. All off to different colleges now, one of theirs studying for the bar, their other for the boards, but the ruckus starts anew each time more than one returns home. Laughing, arguing and raiding the refrigerator. Basketball, loud music, and dancing. The next generation is intelligent and confident. They know they are loved. The entire gang disappears upstairs. That's where the bonus room is, complete with a pool table and a hi-tech entertainment center. The party downstairs is starting to look a lot like the New Year's Eve gathering from the past that Cap thinks we're here to celebrate, especially when George and Taylor arrive. Might be a few more gray hairs in this group than there were back then, but the closeness of this makeshift family has only deepened with time.

"How is the interview with the screenwriter going?"

I manage a smile for David as I decide how to answer him. I can sense George watching me with concern. A quick glance at my wife assures me she is occupied with Diana and Taylor. "It's going."

"You okay?" George is quick to ask. He has always been a good man and a solid friend. We were often fighting different battles in the same war back in the day, but he was right there when we needed him the most and we've always tried to do the same for him.

"Yeah, George, I'm okay. But maybe I should have had you double-check the terms of the contract David let me sign." George laughs, which was my intent.

"I did suggest you have one of your in-house attorneys go over it for you," David reminds me. "They took you public, I'm sure they could handle an entertainment contract."

David is one of the smartest, most kind-hearted men I've ever known and he's fully aware that I'm pulling his leg. He's the brother I never had and never knew I needed. He retired from government work a while back after several terms as Attorney General for the State of Florida. He's back in private practice and they're living close by again. We couldn't be happier.

"Any regrets?" George wants to know.

That is a question that takes a little more thought. How will I look back on this experience in five years' time? Or even ten?

George, is someone who knows a lot about regrets. He wasted a few years putting his life on hold because of them, but he finally snapped out of it and he's been married to Taylor for almost twenty years now. The best twenty years of his life he likes to say. And his son is finally talking to him again. Made him a grandfather a few months ago.

"None at the moment," is as much as I'm willing to admit right now. "It's bringing up a lot of feelings I thought I put behind me, but I can handle it."

"If you ever need a sounding board…"

"Thanks, George."

Diana appears at my side as the two attorneys discuss recent headlines.

"I'm proud of you two," she says, nudging my shoulder as she offers me a glass of red wine. The second I wrinkle my nose, she replaces it with the long neck she'd been hiding behind her back. "Some things never change."

"It's a special occasion."

"Wouldn't this pricey vintage be more appropriate?"

"It's imported," I assure her, tipping the bottle in her direction before taking a swig and sighing with pleasure. "I drink the red stuff all the time. This right here screams special occasion."

"Okay, you win, but now that I've brought you something special, tell me how it's been going with you and this Maureen person. I hear she's really good at digging out the details."

My protective instincts go on full alert. "If Maureen has done anything to upset…"

"Hang on there, Chris. I didn't hear any complaints from your lovely wife. You know she can handle herself just fine in this type of situation."

The surge of adrenaline is not helping my mood tonight.

"It's not a period of time I'm comfortable talking about with a stranger. What was Anna thinking?"

"Of herself, mostly. I read her book."

That makes me laugh.

"But seriously, Chris. You two have come such a long way since then. I know this is difficult, but I think your story will speak to a lot of people. Recovering from traumatic injuries; dealing with near loss. Even having to adjust to a new reality. It's the human condition. I'm proud of you guys."

"Have I ever mentioned that I love you, Dee?"

"Shhhh… Someone might hear."

Her smile is as bright as the morning sun.

The music upstairs suddenly cuts out, followed by a shout of, "They're here!"

Time to go greet Cap and Fran.

We stream out of the front door just as the limo rounds the circular driveway and prepares to stop. I'm already smiling so big my face hurts.

"It's been too long."

Diana is right. Everyone has busy lives, the time between visits can sometimes stretch longer than it should. Modern technology makes it too easy to substitute personal contact with an email or a text. It's my New Year's resolution to do better in 2020.

"I've got a bone to pick with you, Lorenzo!"

Uh oh. Whenever he refers to me as anything but "kid," there's a good chance I'm in trouble.

"What's the problem, Cap?" He's waving his phone at me as he exits the back seat. Chaos ensues as the younger generation call out their greetings, go in for hugs and try to help Fran out of the back seat - all at the same time. Harry is grumbling about all the attention but soaking it up with a smile. He is their beloved "Pops" and Fran is "Mimi." No one quite remembers how those affectionate nicknames came to be, but no singular title could ever be strong enough or descriptive enough to express what this couple means to them. What Fran and Cap have done for us as a couple was more than enough to earn our devotion and respect, but what they have done for our children, the love and interest they have shown in each of them since birth makes them a treasured part of our family.

Fran has finally managed to get past the kids and it's my turn to enjoy one of her hugs.

"How are you doing, doll?"

"Fine, Fran. Was it a good drive?"

"Don't you know it. Hesch was looking so proud when that limousine drove up, I thought the buttons were going to pop right off his shirt."

"I thought he'd get a kick out of it."

"Your driver has been thoroughly interrogated, by the way. Hesch wanted to know how the company is doing."

"He can ask me anything, any time he wants."

"He knows that. He just likes hearing other people praise the two of you and all you've accomplished."

"And he wants to make sure his stock is doing okay."

"Absolutely!"

"What's his problem with the phone?"

"No button."

"No button?"

"Believe me, doll, he appreciates the way you upgrade our phones all the time, but he misses the button."

"He'll adapt."

"Let's hope so!"

Everyone present seems to be laughing as we re-enter the house. Is it any wonder that I always feel like a million bucks in the presence of this couple?

"What's all this?"

I'm glad the kids are using their phones to video Cap's reaction to the birthday decorations. For this brief moment in time, with his hands on his hips and a look of mock outrage on his face, he is once again Homicide Captain Harry Lipchitz, Palm Beach PD, demanding an explanation from the rank and file.

"Happy Birthday, Cap!"

"Happy Birthday, Harry!"

"Happy Birthday, Pops!"

Bear hugs all around. Slaps on the back. Kisses from all the ladies. He's a man in his element and he deserves every second of the attention.

"It's not for two weeks!"

"We're starting early," my lovely wife assures him. "As far as we're concerned, you and Fran can stay here for a month and we'll celebrate every day."

"Better watch out," Fran warns us all. "He may want to move in!"

The kids are all for it, but I know Cap would miss his posse back in Boca. With the kids away at school for a large part of the year, plus our busy work schedule, this house is too big and too quiet most of the time. Harry and Fran have way too much life left in them to spend it quietly. But they will always have their own room here whenever they want it. Downstairs master with a private bath - added on a few years ago with them in mind.

"You did good, Kid," Cap says when we finally have a minute alone. He tells me this every time I see him. I usually thank him and shrug it off. Compliments make me uncomfortable. But the ongoing interviews about the past have clearly affected me more than I anticipated. There is a tightness in my chest as I contemplate a deeper meaning to his words.

"Couldn't have done it without you and Fran."

Bushy gray eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my unexpected response and I have to smile. Isn't often that I can catch him off guard. He's still quick as a fox when he wants to be.

"There was a time when I wasn't sure anything would be good again." My words sound solemn, which I didn't intend. "Sorry, Cap. I've spent too much time with my head in the past lately. Reliving those days has reminded me how chaotic they were, and how right afterward, it was too painful to talk about."

"You handled your grief in the best way you could," he reminds me with a firm hand on my shoulder, "and look at how it all turned out."

"Did I ever properly thank you and Fran for everything you did for us?"

"We never needed you to thank us. You two were family, even back then."

The hug that follows is a little tighter and lasts a little longer than usual.

When we finally sit down to dinner, wine glasses are raised as we take turns toasting Cap's birthday. Laughter rings out in waves. By the time the candles on the cake have been blown out and the presents are opened, we're all a little tired as we relocate back to the living room. My wife is beside me on the couch, one hand resting on my leg. She's leaning forward in an animated conversation with our friends, but the second my arm stretches out along the back, she settles right into me and gets comfortable.

I can't help but study the couples around us. We are decades removed from those near-tragic events in 1995, but all I can focus on tonight is what a mixed blessing they were. The pain and horror were replaced by determination. Determination to start a new life and forge a new future with my partner - my soulmate. How long would we have stayed on the force if not for those shocking events? We loved our jobs. The Silk Stalking detail in Homicide was a perfect fit, and we were passionate about our work. But what we have built for ourselves since then is even more satisfying. We have secured a future for ourselves and our employees. We've found a way to give back, to support victims of violent crimes and help the homeless, especially runaways.

New Year's Eve has always been a special time for us and this year is no exception. I am enjoying myself tonight, but I'm also feeling a little removed from the happiness around me. We're gathered together to celebrate the new year, but the past has a firm hold on my thoughts and doesn't want to let go.

The past, however, does not have a houseful of grown children who are currently huddling in a corner and whispering amongst themselves. "What's that all about?"

Sparkling green eyes turn my way as slender shoulders shrug. "I don't know, but they're up to something."

"Mom… Dad…."

Their serious tone confirms our suspicions.

"It's almost midnight."

They have the full attention of the room.

"We'd like for everyone to follow us outside."

David and Diana's kids are clearly in on it, whatever 'it' is. David might be also. They are the first to move toward the glass doors leading to the deck. I'm guessing this has something to do with fireworks and praying that David's involvement means we aren't talking about the illegal type. Had that discussion far too many times in years past. The kids lead everyone down the deck stairs to the back lawn. Diana hangs back to make sure Cap and Fran follow safely. Something is out there at the edge of the garden near the cliff, covered by a painter's tarp.

"We know the importance of this day."

My companion, my partner, my love, snuggles closer. Her arms remain around my waist as we watch our children, now young adults, coming into their own. Whatever they have orchestrated, I love them for it already.

"And we wanted to do something special."

The tarp is ceremoniously removed and we both stare, not quite sure of what we're seeing.

"It's the same one," they announce proudly as we move closer.

"It can't be."

"It is, Mom. It's been in storage there since 2010. Didn't take much to talk them into selling it to us."

"Cap, were you in on this?"

"Of course, I was, Lorenzo! Who do you think pulled a few strings to find the darn thing?"

All I can do is shake my head in wonder at the rush of memories. Good ones this time. The woman by my side is as beautiful now as she was on that night so long ago. Maybe even more so. Her inner light shines even brighter. Motherhood has softened her edges just as fatherhood softened mine.

I offer a hand, palm side up. "Shall we?" It's a private joke that usually makes her laugh, but the eyes looking up at me now are full of surprise and brimming with emotion. Her hand slips into mine and tightens as I lead her around to the front of the small white iron bench. The kids positioned it facing the ocean just as it was all those years ago in the hotel garden. The view is magnificent but pales in comparison to the only view I'm interested in right now. She takes a seat, expecting me to join her and test it out. No handkerchief in my pocket this time, but I drop to one knee anyway and take her hands in mine.

Fireworks are starting further up along the coastline at the large resorts. The popping sounds are rapid-fire as bright lights shoot up into the night sky, bursting open one right after another to rain down over the dark ocean, but the stroke of midnight has lost all importance for me. The rest of the group seems to feel the same. They're all holding their breath as if I've got something big and romantic planned like I did that night. No way. I'm winging it right now, but I instantly know what I want to say.

"Rita Lorenzo… you know that I love you. And you know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

There's the smile that melts my heart. The catcalls and laughter start as the kids and their cousins rush forward to hug us both.

The chaos, the fireworks, the laughter. It's family. It's love.

….

Several hours later we're back on the bench together enjoying a private moment. The house is quiet. George and Taylor have headed home, as have David and Diana, although David will be back in about six hours.

"Happy twenty-fourth, Sam."

Once again, she makes me laugh.

"It was a great party," I whisper against her cheek, "surprises and all."

"It certainly was."

"Turn around." I've been giving her the same shoulder massages for over twenty-five years and I still get a little thrill when her head rolls forward and she twists her neck in pleasure. Nothing is more satisfying than giving this woman pleasure.

"What time are you leaving in the morning?"

"David said he'll be here by eight." We'll be heading out early to the local park for our annual New Year's Day basketball game. I can still keep up with most of the kids; proud to say I can even out shoot a few of them. I've worked hard to stay in shape. We're hoping to retire in five years. There's a great big world out there waiting to be explored together.

"George said he's going to try and talk you into taking up golf again."

"Eh. Maybe I'll let him give me a few lessons." We're once again face to face. "He might turn me into a regular Slammin' Sammy Snead."

"That brings back memories." She's smiling at our shared past. It wasn't all dark times.

I nod toward the house and give her the look. "What do you say, Sam? I think I hear our cart idling."

Her laugh turns into a sigh of contentment. I feel the same way.

I take one last look at the view before rising and extending a hand to my beautiful wife. The pull of the ocean, as strong as it is, was long ago overshadowed by the pull of family. As we walk toward the house, I glance up at one of the bedroom windows. My eldest child is standing there in the dark watching us. She, more than any of our other children, understands our story. She was there; her life was in peril along with ours. But it's a young, vibrant woman who is smiling down at us now. I place a hand over my heart and she nods. It's our special code for _all is well._

And it is.

Shakespeare once wrote, "What's past is prologue." That sounds about right. History certainly does set the context for our present. Rita and I are living testaments to that. But if you spend too much time looking back, you risk missing out on the life and love that is right in front of you. The only memories I'm currently interested in are the ones we're creating right now.

The End

January 2020

Afterthoughts:

Happy Birthday and best wishes to Charlie Brill, who turned 82 on January 13th of this year! Coming across a recent picture of him smiling and happy was a huge inspiration for this story. Charlie Brill and his talented wife, Mitzi McCall added so much heart and provided so many laughs as Harry and Fran Lipschitz on Silk Stalkings.

To quote Rita Lance in the third season episode Tough Love, "A couple of real originals. Absolutely made for each other!"


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